


Right or Wrong

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Damsel in Distress, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied Smut, Protective!Loki, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: A Damsel in Distress fic where Loki stakes his claim over the Reader while saving her from a seedy stranger outside of a bar.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 173





	Right or Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> No actual non-con occurs in this fic. It is only threatened. I put the threats in between asterisks so those who wish to may skip around that bit.

“Just one drink! And if you don’t drink, just come and hang out. Everyone will be there,” Nat coaxed you good-naturedly with a winning smile and elbow nudged into your ribs. “Plus, I hear Thor is dragging Loki along.”

You rolled your eyes, gathering your notes and carefully organizing them into your satchel to take home for the evening. “Nobody can _drag_ Loki along to anything.”

She shrugged. “True, but I hear he’s coming. I’ve noticed how you look at him during meetings.”

You didn’t realize you had been that obvious. It was completely inappropriate for you to have anything more than a professional interest in the tall, dark, and intimidating god given your position in public relations for the Avengers. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to the devilishly handsome man with his arresting emerald eyes that seemed to stare straight into your very soul. You longed to work the tension from his shoulders with a gentle caress, discover if his jaw was truly as sharp as it appeared or if his lips could twist and give into anything besides a disdainful frown or sarcastic smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you bluffed, dropping your eyes to your hands fidgeting with a collection of sticky notes.

She patted you on the shoulder. “Sure you don’t. We’re all meeting up around ten, unless the world ends before then. See you there.”

You grumbled incoherently at her retreating back, putting a bit more force into your packing up even as your heart raced at the possibilities the evening hinted at. 

What would one drink hurt?

~

“I’m only here to make sure that _you_ don’t get yourselves into trouble!” you insisted loudly over the loud music streaming from the jukebox beside you, taking a sip of the drink she’d shoved into your hand as soon as you’d appeared. “Not to socialize.”

“Whatever you say,” Nat agreed, leaning back against the bar you sat at, eyeing the crowd at your back. “So you don’t care at all that Loki and Thor just walked in? And that they’re walking toward us right now looking like sex on two legs?”

You choked, coughing against the burn of the alcohol seizing your lungs, leaning against the worn wooden bar for support. 

A hand, warm and large, patted and rubbed at your back in turn, accompanied by a silken voice you’d recognize anywhere murmuring in your ear. “Easy, sweetling. It isn’t yet late enough for me to steal your breath away.”

Heat flushed beneath the skin of your cheeks and neck at the salacious timbre of his richly accented voice. You turned just enough to look him in the eye. He was so close that any movement from either of you would touch your lips together. Were they soft and pillowy? Did they taste like toothpaste or the alcohol that lightly scented his breath as it teased against your neck?

The logical side of your brain took control over the carnal needs sending your thoughts into a flurry. It wasn’t proper to even begin to think that way. He was your client, and you couldn’t mix business with pleasure. And judging by the desire that darkened his gaze as his eyes darted to your painted lips and his hand traveled lower to smooth over the small of your back, he could give you _pleasure_.

You cleared your throat, straightening up and taking a gulp of your drink to give yourself something - anything - to focus on besides Loki at your side. His hand left your back so he could take his own drink, and he stood in the spot Nat just vacated without so much as a second glance in your direction. He chose to stare out over the crowd instead, his eyes lighting on the rest of the crew clustered around a series of pushed together tables before scanning the other patrons with nothing but boredom settling on his finely-sculped features.

“Milady! How are you this fine evening?” Thor’s pleasant voice practically boomed out over everything else as he stood beside his brother, holding a frosted mug of beer so large that it was almost comical.

You fell into easy conversation with the golden god, interrupted on occasion by a random Avenger strolling up and giving an enthusiastic greeting on their way to grab another round for everyone else. Loki’s eyes lingered on you from time to time, dragging down your body and lighting an inferno in their wake that you longed for him to smother with his lips and calloused fingertips. Somehow you managed to keep your cool, channeling all of your desire and tension into the white knuckles that clutched your drink as if it could stop your heart from jumping out of your chest and into his waiting hands.

At one point the nervous drinks you had consumed finally got to you, and you excused yourself to the ladies’ room. No amount of splashing cool water on your face was going to calm your frazzled nerves, even if it did feel amazing. You adjusted your shirt as you walked out, bumping into a wall of a man in your brief moment of distraction.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-”

Loki turned around, catching you as you stumbled with his hands on the dip in your waist, cutting off your quickly rambled apology. Once you were righted his touch lingered, branding you through the thin cotton of your t-shirt. “Apology accepted, although unnecessary. You must be more observant in the future.”

You combed your fingers through your hair to give your hands something to do besides splaying across his chest to see if the muscles barely visible beneath his button-down shirt were truly as smooth as they appeared. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll do that. Thanks.”

He released you from his captivating presence, freeing you to dart through the crowd back to Thor who watched over your newly acquired glass of water dutifully.

“Ah, you’re back!” he exclaimed, shooting you a radiant smile that could probably outdo the sun for how much warmth it exuded. “You look unwell. Is everything alright?”

Only after chugging half of your water did you reply, setting the glass down gently on the bar to compensate for how your hands trembled with an intoxicating combination of excitement and nerves. “Yeah. Just ran into Loki, literally, and almost fell on my ass.”

“You are attracted to him.”

You shook your head a little too forcefully to be believable. “Of course not. He’s my client, as are you and the rest of the Avengers.”

“He is attracted to you as well,” he replied, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. His eyes moved through the crowd before settling on a distant point, and you knew it had to be the man currently in question. “I approve of such a union.”

 _Union?_ “No, no, no. It isn’t like that. He’s just-” Your phone buzzed insistently in your pocket, drawing your attention. Glaring at the familiar name of your boss lighting up your screen, you waved it at Thor apologetically before shouldering your way through the crowd and out of the door into the night.

“Hello?” You shoved the phone into your ear, scurrying away from the front door to escape the biting cold wind that tore through your clothing. You’d left your coat inside. The alleyway beside the bar provided a bit of shelter from the wind, although it now seemed the journey was pointless was the call had been dropped.

“What is so important at midnight that you have to call?” you hissed, stomping your feet against the cold sinking into your bones as you redialed the number, your chin tucked into your chest and your shoulders hunched.

*

“Whatcha doin’ there, sweet cheeks?”

Your hand fell to your side, thumb hovering over the keyboard as dread filled your veins with a thick sludge that threatened to anchor you to the spot. Lifting your gaze from the dirty asphalt, you caught sight of the man walking confidently toward you, all sinister swagger as he stopped too close for your liking.

“Just calling my boyfriend,” you hedged, backing up until the grit of the stone wall bit into your shoulder blades. You searched behind him frantically for someone, anyone, to see your wide eyes and trembling figure slinking into the shadows. But they were all going about their business without even glancing in your direction, too busy to notice the quiet confrontation happening scant feet to their right.

“Why don’t I keep you company until he shows up?” he asked, an ominous chill to his tone as his hands came up on either side of your shoulders to box you in.

You closed your fist over your phone, trying to remember anything from the self-defense classes Tony had gotten for all the staff, when the weight of his body was suddenly lifted from yours. It was replaced by the gentle pressure of another, and your vision was filled with Loki’s broad shoulders. 

*

His hand reached out behind him, and you slipped your fingers through his without a second thought, the reassuring touch pulling you into him until your front fitted to his back. He settled your hand on his side in slow, measured movements that told nothing of the strength and rage straining at the muscles in his neck and clenching in his jaw.

The tension beneath your fingertips matched the threat lacing his words. “She’s mine.”

The man scrambled up from where he’d sprawled on the ground, brushing off his jeans and shooting Loki a hateful glare. “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

You shifted just enough so that you could catch Loki’s profile, the line of his jaw and slope of his nose drawing your attention to his eyes, which briefly flashed a blood red that shot a spike of terror through you. They held a dangerous promise that you didn’t want to see fulfilled.

“She is _mine_ ,” he repeated, arms moving out from his sides in a fluid motion. The glint of his daggers caught the light at the edges of your vision. “Leave now if you wish to maintain what little manhood you possess for believing you can accost anyone in such a fashion, let alone what belongs to me.”

The man wisely took the command, cursing under his breath as he stormed away. The breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding burst out of you, and you sank back against the bar’s outer wall, closing your eyes as you focused on calming your racing heart.

“Did he harm you?” The words were soft, quiet and dripping with concern, directed at you from just in front of you.

You opened up your eyes, tilting your head back so that you could clearly see Loki towering protectively over you. His brows pulled together with his care for you, and he stepped to shield your body from the view of those passing by as well as from the frigid wind. When you trembled, either from shock or cold you weren’t sure, he removed his black blazer and draped it over your shoulders. His hands rubbed warmth and comfort over your upper arms.

“No,” you managed to eke out around the dryness in your throat. Swallowing down your fear, you tried again, “I’m okay. It was just some dumbass…”

The skin around his eyes tightened as he peered down at you. “Would you like to gather your composure before returning to your companions?”

You couldn’t imagine the uproar that your current state would cause. Trembling, eyes wide and shoulders hunched, you were quite the opposite from the cool, calm, and collected persona you carefully constructed each day. Gratefully, you nodded, digging your fingers into the borrowed blazer and pulling it tighter around your shoulders. It was warm, scented with a clean, masculine scent that stirred longing deep in your belly.

“Come here,” Loki instructed quietly, holding out his arms at your sides. At your quirked brow, he clarified, “You look positively frozen and I am quite warm.”

When were you going to get such an offer again? Silencing the part of your brain that screamed that you shouldn’t do it, you stepped into his embrace, tucking your forehead into his neck and nuzzling your cheek against his chest. His arms held you firmly to him, cradling the back of your head and dipping beneath his blazer to rest on your waist. His thumb toyed with the sliver of skin he found between your shirt and jeans. Tendrils of pleasure slid out from that tiny tease of a touch, curling your toes and drawing all of the moisture from your mouth to pool hopefully between your legs.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your breath curling between you in a small cloud as you pulled your head back to look up at him. He dropped his chin to do the same. “I’m lucky you happened to be out here. Right place, right time and all that.”

His hand dropped to cup the side of your neck so his thumb could caress the soft skin beneath your ear. “It was no coincidence. I followed you here. I wanted to speak with you, alone.”

Your heart stopped beating. “About?”

His head lowered until his nose nudged along yours, and you felt the tiny puffs of air from his speech against your slightly parted lips. “I believe you know the matter I wished to discuss.”

He straightened up with a frown. It was quickly replaced by his typical look of indifference. You hated that look when compared to the desire that had graced his face only moments before. “But now is no longer an appropriate time. As you do not seem fit to enjoy the remainder of the evening, allow me to escort you home? It would soothe my anxieties to know that you arrived there safely.”

“Of-of course,” you stammered, shocked both by what he basically just admitted and at how quickly he had retreated from it. He pulled away from you fully, leaving emptiness behind that was more chilling than the softly falling snow that dotted his long, black locks. The ensuing ache in your chest was too much to bear. “Loki?”

He stilled, turning around on his heel. “Yes?”

Summoning all of your courage you reached out to him, stilling your fidgeting hands on the expanse of his chest. “You were right.”

“About what, sweetling?” he asked, guarded, curious, but not overly so as he regarded you behind dark lashes.

You threw all caution to the wind. “That I’m yours.”

“Is that so?” A hopeful grin curled on his lips. He walked you back into the safety of the shadows, the length of him holding you against the wall. It made your heart race in anticipation, and you wetted your lips in a quick flick of your tongue that made him growl softly in his throat. “Then I shall have what is mine.”

Your lips caught his in a tender, questioning kiss that differed from the fire you had seen burning in his eyes before yours had fallen closed. He was gentle, achingly so, as if you would break at the slightest bit of pressure or passion from him. But that touch broke the last of your barriers against him, sending them crumbling to the ground where your toes curled inside your shoes. Your fingers pressed into his pecs and you gasped into his mouth at the pure bliss that flowed through you, hot and enticing and demanding.

Your gasp seemed to shatter something in him, and he licked at your lips before slanting his mouth over yours in a deep and thorough kiss that took every bit of your yearning for him and created more. It was dark and rich and full to the brim with undisguised urgency. His fingers at your waist aided in the grind of your hips together and you clung onto him for fear of your knees weakening at his fervent touch.

You panted for air when he finally broke the kiss to lean his forehead against yours. You would have drowned in his amorous hold had he allowed it. “Loki?”

He hummed his questioning response, the words buzzing through your skin to tease at the tension clenching your stomach tight.

“Take me home.”


End file.
